


Okay for Now

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kinda fluff, M/M, PWP, idk what this is, kind of dubious consent but not really, let's call it floof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco just wanted to sleep in his own bed, dammit.<br/>And if someone ended up joining him in it, well, he wasn't complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay for Now

“Potter, open up the bloody door,” Draco snarled. Merlin, he should have known something like this would happen. He returns to complete his Seventh Year at Hogwarts—technically, his Eighth Year—, and things just got worse from there. Because, you know, other than somehow managing to escape the War with his life still intact—albeit, just barely—he needed  _ more  _ shit to deal with.

First, the Eighth Years aren’t allowed in their normal Houses due to lack of space, so they’re forced to room with students of different Houses in the newly added wing. 

Second; two-students a room. 

Third; two students a room of the  _ same gender  _ (not that this was very surprising). 

Fourth; they had to share a table in the Great Hall, as well. 

Fifth; He was roomed with sodding  _ Potter _ !

Who had fucking  _ locked him out of the bloody room! _

“I  _ can’t _ ,” Potter growled back for the  _ seventy millionth time _ .

“And why on earth  _ not _ ?”

“I  _ can’t _ !”

Draco was at his last straw. “Potter, if you don’t open this door right the  _ fuck _ now, I’m going to summon Granger, and we  _ both  _ know she can find a way around Hogwarts’ locks if she puts her mind to it.”

“Fu- Shit-  **_No_ ** _! _ ” Potter yelled, tripping over his own profanities. “Can’t you just- Just give me some more time?”

“Potter, I don’t give a  _ flying fuck  _ if you’re masturabting-”

“If I’m  _ what _ ?”

“-I need to bloody  _ sleep,  _ and you’ve had me locked out of this room all weekend! McGonagall personally saw to my removal from Pansy’s room, no matter how homosexual I claimed to be. I’m not sleeping in the hallway just because you’re feeling self conscious about your newest acne or some such rot. What on  _ earth  _ could even be a good excuse to kick me to the curb? I’m a fucking  _ pleasure  _ to be around,  _ dammit _ !”

“ _ This  _ is why!” Potter yelled, finally yanking the door open, snarling and chest heaving and-

“Stop blocking the  _ bloody  _ doorway before I forcibly remove you from it,” Draco hissed, roughly shoving passed his roommate. 

Potter gaped at him.

“You don’t- Why aren’t you trying to tear off my clothes?” Potter asked.

Draco froze. Fuck, did Potter know? Did Potter  _ know _ ?

He forced himself to play it cool. “Probably because I want to return home this year  _ without  _ any more scars, mental or otherwise?”

Potter’s mouth kept opening and closing, obviously baffled.

“You- Ron accidentally doused me with an  _ Odium _ Potion. Even  _ he _ was pawing at me, and he’s the straightest guy I know!”

Draco blinked, because what did that say about Potter? Did it say  _ anything _ ? Was he reading too closely into it? Probably, but Draco had to if he wanted to convince himself he wasn’t insane for sometimes feeling like he had a chance. 

Sometimes, Potter would stare at him with a peculiar sort of intensity, and Draco could  _ swear  _ it was Potter’s  _ I wanna shag that so hard I can’t see straight  _ face, but it quite possibly might be his  _ I can’t tell if you’re Malfoy or not because my prescription is shite, and you’re acting oddly nice  _ face. Perhaps, they were one and the same, and there was Draco’s unrealistic optimism again, when the realistic side of him knew Potter was just a blind twat. A stupid, charming, heterosexual, blind twat.

Draco realized Potter was  _ still  _ talking, and made an effort to latch onto his next words.

“And, I just thought it would be safer if...” Potter shook his head. “Why aren’t you affected?” Potter asked again, and frowned. “You think it... wore off?”

Draco was tempted to tell him it was because he  _ always  _ wanted to tear off his clothes, but didn’t, because he wanted to sleep in his bed tonight, thanks ever so.

“Doubtful,” Draco explained. “I, you see, have impeccable self control, and am largely disgusted by you as a whole. Any possible boners are cancelled out by these facts.”

Potter frowned harder. “Is that... possible? That’s it?”

Draco spread his arms wide and shook his hands. “ _ Magic _ , Potter. Anything is possible.” He was  _ oh  _ so very thankful Potter was an ignorant muggleborn, or surely his explanation would have been accepted more skeptically than it was.

“Oh,” Potter said simply, sounding distinctly put off.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that disappointment I hear?”

Potter looked up at him, surprised. “Only because I went through all the effort of barricading the door and locking you out, it seems, for no reason.”

Draco stared, incredulous. “You  _ barricaded  _ the  _ door  _ against me? What do you think I am, some superhuman creature of molestation? A simple Sticking Charm to the wall wouldn’t have sufficed?”

Potter flushed. “I panicked,” he said lamely.

Draco rolled his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

This was going to be a bloody long night.

* * *

“Draco?” Potter called from across the room.

Draco pretended to sleep, even though his straining erection wouldn’t let him forget about it for more than a couple minutes at a time before impatiently twitching—untouched, swollen, and heavy against his thigh. Even though he had glamoured his lower half from Potter earlier, there was no hiding it from himself. 

Fuck, Potter was  _ right fucking there _ , and why had he wanted so dearly to sleep in his bed, again? Because there would be no sleeping tonight. Of that, he was sure.

“Draco?” Potter called again, this time, closer. 

Draco jumped a little, startled. 

“What?” he snapped.

“You, um...” Potter trailed off, and Draco could easily picture him biting his lower lip in hesitation. “You’re gay, right?”

Draco couldn’t withhold a snort.

“What gave it away?” he replied, voice breathier than intended. Shit, he was in trouble. Maybe he could... “Potter, as gross as you are, it’s harder to see said grossness in the dark. If you would take a few cautionary steps backwards—a few yards backwards, even—that would be great.”

Instead, he felt Potter tentatively brush a hand against his shoulder, and, intrigued, Draco didn’t pull away. 

Noticing this, Potter began petting his arm.

“Well, you- I...” Potter licked his lips. “You used to share rooms with Blaise Zabini, right?” 

“And the rest of the Slytherin boys. What does it matter?”

Potter was stroking his arm more quickly with shaky hands, and Draco would have found the action bizarre if he wasn’t so painfully aroused.

“Well, you two shagged, right?” Potter whispered. “But you were still friends. We’re not really friends, but this doesn’t have to be a big deal, right? We can just—just for tonight—maybe-”

Draco shot up in bed, whipping around to pin Potter’s silhouette with a disbelieving stare. “And why on Merlin’s multicolored earth would you ask me something like that?”

Potter, shaking harder, clumsily climbed into Draco’s bed, ignoring the blond’s indignant protests.

He leaned in, whispering unnecessarily loudly, “It’s affecting me, too. I thought I could ignore it when you first came in, but— _ fuck _ ,” he hissed, scooting close to Draco, nearly spooning him. The blond inhaled sharply when he felt the hard length pressing feverishly to his hindquarters. What the  _ shit  _ was going on?

Potter, after the initial sensation, moaned, long and low, and canted his hips forward, grinding, and what the hell? Draco shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by this. Potter was under a potion’s influence, for Merlin’s sake, this wasn't right-

Potter leaned forwards, pushing and shoving his hands around Draco’s body until he could wrap around him.

“Potter, what the  _ hell _ -”

“You can feel it, too,” Potter insisted, squeezing as his wandering hands found Draco’s erection.

“You’re under a potion’s influence, Potter-” Draco started, beginning to feel a little hysterical. Was this  _ real _ ? Why was everything moving so quickly? He and Potter had barely  _ spoken _ a week ago, and now they were, what, getting each other off?

“We don’t have to fuck,” Potter said, so casually, as though the thought didn’t disturb him in the least. “Just a little, ah, just a little touching, hm?”

“This could— _ ah, fuck _ —be seen as  _ rape _ in the disenchanting light of day-”

“If you can still say things like ‘disenchanting’,” Potter murmured in his ear, nibbling and licking the shell, “you’re not horny enough,” he decided, beginning to stroke Draco through his boxers.

Draco fought, he really did, but with Potter  _ touching  _ him, reciprocating his desires, even if only for tonight, it pushed him over the edge. 

Draco gave in, arching against Potter, rolling his hips to press his arse back against Potter.

Potter gasped, moaned, and began to kiss at his neck. Hot, sloppy, searing kisses than turned Draco into a wonton mess.

“Then maybe— _ ngh _ ,” he whined, flinching as teeth nipped at the tender column of his neck, grinding harder against Potter in approval. “Maybe you should,” he panted, “do something about that, then?” It sounded less like a question and more like a statement, even to Draco’s ears, but the option was still there.

“I plan to,” Potter breathed, licking his way back up to Draco’s ear, dipping his hands into Draco’s pants.

Draco moaned, bucking, but knew he wouldn’t last long in this state. He wanted it to last, needed it to. If this was his only chance, he wanted to see Potter when he came.

Draco rolled away, immediately regretting the action as Potter’s hands slipped away easily with surprise. Potter snarled, sounding dangerous, and Draco smirked before leaning up, looking down at a very frustrated Harry Potter.

Potter, noticing he wasn't leaving, watched him dark eyes, the rim of green a mere thread of color around his blown pupils. The sun was coming up, Draco realized, which is why he was able to see clearly again. He was running out of time.

Draco, deciding to forgo all second thoughts from this point on, straddled Potter’s waist in one swift moment, hissing in sync with Potter as their erections nestled together. Draco leaned forward, entrapping Potter in his arms so he could get on his knees. With the new angle to his hips, he grinded down harshly, laughing breathlessly when Harry whimpered and clutched at his waist. One hand slid down to grab Draco’s arse, pulling him closer so he could wrap one powerful leg around Draco’s thigh and keep him there, while the other slid beneath the front of Draco’s sleepshirt, creeping up his chest along his scar, the scar Potter had put there, until it rested over his heart.

Draco shivered. “Your hands are cold,” he whispered.

“I want to to feel you,” Harry whispered back.

“You’re feeling more of me right now than many ever had,” Draco said, and it was intimate, and he wondered if that was okay.

Potter’s fingers on his chest curled slightly, a little possessive gesture Draco found endearing and reassuring. This was okay. They were okay for now.

Draco wanted to feel him too, all of him, to worship Potter-Harry, it was Harry, and he remembered his previous decision about second thoughts and did it.

He leaned down to nuzzle his nose in Potter’s neck, his hair, and breathed in. One hand slid beneath Harry’s nightshirt, resting over his fluttering heart in return, while the other slipped beneath Potter’s pajama pants to brush his length.

Potter hissed, shivering and pressing himself into Draco’s palm, but Draco wasn’t feeling the previous urgency. He only had tonight.

Draco lightly tickled it with his fingertips, just the whisper of a touch, as he lightly kissed at Harry’s neck. 

Harry stiffened, surprised, before relaxing into the feel of Draco’s mouth as he made his way down. They weren’t harsh sucks, nothing that would leave any marks, but enough that Harry could feel them, could know they were there.

Draco moved both his hands to Potter’s nightshirt, unbuttoning as he kissed and licked his way downwards, all the while keeping the lazy rock of his lips, like waves rolling in, lapping against the sunkissed shore. Draco made his way down, down, down, nuzzling the coarse public hair as he gently tugged Harry’s pants away with his teeth.

There was only the soft press of lips, feathery touches, breathy sighs, and then Harry was spreading his legs and Draco was kissing along the underside of his penis.

“Draco,” Harry murmured, tossing his head restlessly, canting his hips forward.

Draco pressed them down, staring at the beautiful length before him, glistening with precome, bathed in the morninglight spilling through the window behind the headboard of his bed.

“You’re beautiful,” Draco murmured against the crown of Potter’s cock, and when it pulsed beneath his lips, he smiled.

He looked up and found Harry watching him, lips parted, eyes wide. He looked a mix of disbelief and awe, and Draco felt even more affection sweep through him. 

Draco opened his lips and swallowed until the head hit the back of his throat, and Harry thrashed beneath him.

“Fuck,” he panted, hips quivering beneath Draco’s hold.

Draco smirked, tonguing the slope of the bottom while the head brushed the roof of his mouth, and when he swallowed, hollowing out his cheeks, Harry spasmed and shot forward, pulling Draco up by his hair and smashing their lips together harshly.

It was all tongue and hot breath and writhing, touching, grinding, frotting, biting, groping, sucking, and in between Potter shoving his tongue as far down Draco’s throat as humanly possible, Draco cursed.

“Fuck, Harry, I’m coming-” And he did, and Potter was watching him, eyes wide and lips parted with that same amazement, and then he was kissing Draco again, milking the blond through his powerful orgasm, and then he was coming too. Draco swallowed his scream down, and when they parted for breath, watching each other in their postcoital haze, Draco realized exactly what he done.

Potter was under a  _ potion _ , for Merlin’s sake.

He felt sick, and when he turned over and buried beneath his covers, wrapping himself up like a cocoon, Draco could hear Harry’s soft breathing for one, two, three breaths of his own before his bed dipped, and Harry’s warmth was gone.

Draco wanted to cry, but instead, his sleepy eyes forced him to sleep.

Fuck.

* * *

Potter lasted three days until he snapped.

Draco had merely been meandering down the abandoned classrooms near the old Slytherin House, trying his damndest not to return to their shared room too early should Potter make this  _ The Day _ to have  _ The Talk _ about  _ That Thing That We Shouldn’t Have Done But Most Certainly Did _ .

He was minding his own business when suddenly a hand was grabbing his arms and  _ yanking _ , nearly pulling the bloody limb from its socket. Draco opened his mouth to yell, drew his wand in preparation to cast, but was caught utterly off guard by a hot mouth assaulting his own.

Draco was whisked away in Potter’s scent of cedar wood and april showers, leaning into the touch, the demanding lips, moaning when Potter’s hands traveled down to grope his arse and pull him even closer, just like last time-

Draco’s eyes snapped open and he pushed Potter away, panicking, but Potter didn’t go far. He seemed to have been expecting this, if his smirk and firmly planted hands had anything to say. He squeezed Draco’s unsuspecting behind, as if just making sure his hands were still there, and the blond jumped, startled, and flushed in humiliation and anger when Potter laughed.

“Potter, what the fuck?” Draco hissed, trying in vain to dislodge the grabby hands. If they weren’t on his arse, then his hips, and if not there, then linking their fingers together, or sliding around Draco’s waist, or along his chest. “What on earth are you  _ doing _ ?” Draco snarled.

“I’m tired of you calling me Potter,” Potter said simply, as though that explained it all.

“What-”

“I hate watching you walk around with my love bites without being able to say they’re mine.”

Draco flushed, slapping a hand to his neck. 

“I didn’t know-”

Potter leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. Draco tried to lean back, gain some space to  _ breath  _ and truly register what was being said, but Potter wrapped his arms around him, hugging him close. 

“But mostly,” Potter said quietly, eyes sincere, “I miss kissing you,” he said. “I could kiss you for  _ years _ , Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but couldn’t resist preening, despite himself. “We can’t kiss for years, Potter.”

Harry frowned. “We could,” he said. Then, his eyes flickered to the floor, cheeks turning a delicately rosy color. “If—I mean, if you  _ let _ me,” he mumbled.

Draco, of course, flushed heavily in return, because with him, it seemed there was no ‘delicately rosy’, but either pale as snow or red as a copper cauldron.

“Dammit, Harry, you’re such a sentimental pillock, with your stupid affection and your bloody mouth-”

Harry, surprised by his outburst, took a second to laugh before leaning in and kissing his roommate soundly. It wasn’t a full on snog, not yet, but several small, tender, slow kisses that left Draco breathless nonetheless. 

He decided he, also, might not absolutely despise kissing Harry for some time.

**Author's Note:**

> The end.
> 
> Short and sweet and I’m so sorry, I just wanted to write some porn, yafeel?


End file.
